My Not So Purrfect Angel

1. Leo

Chapter 1

Leo

“Shouldn’t you have gone home an hour ago?” Mick asks.

I laugh and give Daisy a fuss. “Probably, but I wanted to ensure all the kennels were clean and tidy first.”

Daisy is a three-year-old yellow labrador who arrived at the shelter a month ago. She’d been loved, but a change in circumstances had forced her family to give her up.

I hold my palm up. “Give me paw.”

She taps my palm with her paw. I rub her head and then leave her enclosure, locking it securely.

“Well, thanks for saving me a job, I guess,” Mick says with a yawn.

“Are you going to survive the night?”

“Sure, sure. I’ll give myself caffeine through an IV. Besides, thanks to you, there’s not much to do, so I’ll catch some Zs as well.” He clamps his hand over his mouth. “Why do you work with dogs when you’re a cat person?”

“I like dogs too.”

“But you have a cat.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t like dogs. Besides, Cayenne adopted me, and my apartment isn’t big enough for a dog. It wouldn’t be fair.” If I did have room, I’d take at least half the shelter home with me. “Have a good night.”

“Will do. See you in the morning.”

Leaving late means I miss the worst of the traffic on my way home, which is always a bonus. I walk through my apartment door and find Cayenne waiting for me. He winds himself around my legs, proving for the millionth time that cats are liquid, covered in fur. Cayenne is a ginger-and-white cat with amazing yellow-green eyes and a fluffy tail. I glance around the living space but can’t see any evidence of destruction.

“Have you stayed out of trouble for once?”

Cayenne replies with a disgruntled meow and paws my leg.

“All right, all right.” I pick him up, cradle him against my chest, and stroke him while I kick my shoes off and hang up my keys.

He purrs like a jet engine as long as I’m stroking him.

“What have you been up to today?” I ask it every day, even though he can’t reply.

I check the bedroom. Everything is how I left it, except for a cat-shaped wrinkle in the quilt .

“A bit of sleeping, I see.”

Cayenne chirps.

“Hey, nothing wrong with sleeping all day.”

I open my arms enough to encourage him to jump down. He follows me around as I make his dinner. He’s my very own furry trip wire. I put his food bowl on the floor. Now it’s my turn to eat. What should I have for dinner? I grasp the fridge door handle.

“I forgot to turn the calendar over. Isn’t that bad luck or something?”

Cayenne lets out an exasperated mewl.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just a silly superstition.” I lift the calendar off its hook and turn the page.

My breath catches in my throat. You’d think that after all this time, I wouldn’t be caught by surprise every February, mainly as I write important dates on my new calendar every December. But yet again, I’m blindsided by the anniversary of my parents’ deaths. A week later, a note says it’s Cayenne’s ‘found you’ day.

“We’ve been together for seventeen years.”

Cayenne stops eating and stares at me, his expression saying, “Yeah? So?” loud and clear.

I whistle. “Seventeen years is a long time. You’re old.”

The cat hisses and carries on eating.

“I’m sorry if I offended you, but it’s true. What is the average lifespan of a cat?”

I don’t want to think about it, but at the same time, I need to prepare myself. I pull my phone out of my pocket to do an internet search. Cayenne abandons his food and launches himself at me, knocking the phone out of my hand. It skitters across the floor and thuds into the skirting board.

“Hey! What was that for?”

I retrieve it. Thankfully, neither the screen nor the phone is broken. Cayenne threads himself around my legs, purring and rubbing against my shins.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You’re not old. You’re as spritely as the day you turned up.”

I pick him up and hug him, willing him to be around forever, even though I know he can’t be. Still, he doesn’t have a shred of grey fur on him. Do ginger-and-white cats go grey?

“Go finish your dinner before I think you don’t want it.”

I put him down, wash my hands, and make a quick pasta dish. Once I’ve done the dishes and cleaned the litter tray, Cayenne and I sit on the sofa and watch TV until I’m yawning too much to keep track of what’s happening in the convoluted mystery series I’m binge-watching.

By the time I’m ready for bed, Cayenne is curled up in his usual spot.

I pat his head. “Night, Cay.”

The cat yawns, stretches, and rests his head on his paws. As usual, he looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, but we both know better. I close my eyes. It’s time to sleep.

Crash.

Bang .

Thud. I sit upright, breathing hard. What the fuck was that? The room is dark, but there’s enough moonlight to tell that Cayenne isn’t in his usual spot.

“What have you done?” I get out of bed and pad through to the living area.

I shiver as a draught from the open window brushes against my bare legs.

“What the hell? I don’t remember leaving the window open.” I close it and peer outside.

Crash .

I jump, press my hand over my heart, and turn around. Cayenne is sitting beside the tipped-over bin, licking his front left paw nonchalantly.

“Was it you making all that noise?”

The kitchen is a mess. My recipe books have been knocked off the shelf, and the tall pot for cooking utensils lies on its side, its contents spilt on the floor.

I shut the window without a glance outside and stride over to Cayenne. Any shred of anger I might have felt has dissipated by the time I’ve scooped him into my arms.

“Little chaos gremlin.” I sigh and hug him. “You’re a pain in the arse, do you know that?”

Cayenne chirps as if to say, “Who? Me?”

“Yes, you.”

I put him down and stand the bin up. I recover the utensils and toss them into the sink. I’ll wash them tomorrow. I’ll worry about the recipe books tomorrow too. The cat follows me into the bedroom. I shut the door firmly. The red numbers on my alarm clock inform me it’s three a.m. I groan.

“Time to get some more sleep.”

I lie down. Rather than sleeping in his usual spot, Cayenne snuggles up against my feet. Having him so close is nice.

My alarm clock wakes me, followed by a paw to the face and a mewl that screams, “Wake up, human, I’m starving.”

“All right, all right, I’m getting up.”

I put the TV on while I make Cayenne and me breakfast. I’m halfway through pouring milk on my cereal when a familiar apartment block appears on a news article, along with the headline ‘Burglar knocks himself out trying to climb into apartments.’

“Police say the burglar was trying to scale the wall to reach an apartment on one of the upper floors when he slipped and fell. Wheelie bins below broke his fall, but he was left with a concussion,” the newsreader says.

“That’s my apartment block.” I stare at the window I’d left open last night. “He might have got in here if—if—I hope he’s okay.”

Cayenne nuzzles my leg.

“I bet you’d have done nothing but purr and ask for cuddles if he’d have broken in here.”

Cayenne sits on his haunches and gives me a look that says, “Screw you.”

“Maybe I should get a dog. ”

Cayenne smacks my leg with his paw. At least he has the decency to keep his claws retracted.

“Don’t you want a doggy playmate?”

Cayenne yowls and saunters off. He jumps onto the windowsill, glances at me, and licks his paw.

“Don’t worry. I won’t get a dog.”

Cayenne keeps licking his paw as though he doesn’t care.

I check my watch. “I’m going to be late for work if I don’t get a move on.” I wag my spoon at the cat. “No getting into trouble today.”

The cat stares at me like he’s the most innocent creature alive. A halo would have appeared over his head if this were a cartoon.

“Nope. You can’t dupe me. I know you’re a chaos gremlin.”

Cayenne mewls indignantly.

I finish breakfast, grab my stuff, and pat him. “See you later, Cay.”

He nuzzles his head against my palm, staring out the window like a furry sentinel. Weirdly, I feel safer knowing Cayenne is looking after the apartment while I’m out.